Memories in a Bottle
by Giggleblush
Summary: Their moments are so little but not enough for just words to express. This is a semi-drabble and AU just for KH. Raining devils all 'round! :F Rated for safety.
1. Bottle one: Three's The Charm part one

**A:N// There's no real plot in this story just randomness about the very cute heroine's life with a few schemes and tricky parts where there's our devilish young heir and his old dark, manipulative wickedness.  
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**Disclaimer: **

**Who's deserving to owe a very good looking rich guy like Kyouya? Suggestions! **

**_*whispers*_  
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**What? Even if you pay him a lot? **

**_*nodds*_  
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**If that's the case, but he's not mine to sell.**

_***Agrees***_

**You guys have no mercy.**

**_*Agrees*_**

**Oh, for goodness sake! Get on with the story and ENJOY! XD  
**

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**Bottle one:**

Part one: Three's The Charm

Just before dawn there was a subtle increase in the traffic, more of a pulsing insistence in the oncoming whining and diminishing drones. Fujioka Haruhi, student of Tokyo University, lay wakeful and restless in the bedroom of her apartment three hundred yards behind the showplace of Ootori corporation, a hundred-unit structure with wide drives, landscape terraces, a large swimming pool.

During the day she was not aware of the roaring flow. It's the blinking motley city lights she saw in the darkness and the towering skyscrapers that were unhinged in its remotely base. It was a still night. She could identify the direction from the sound. Now on this Friday morning near the end of September, the tourist from mid-west, the last stragglers from the branch company in South Tokyo were grinding north up route. They were passing a bridge six hundred yards from her apartment, traffic only entered a city limits of Shibuya. From time to time he could hear the far-off chuff or air brakes as one of the big rigs.

Haruhi picked up her plain brown watch from the night stand and looked at the luminous dial. Ten of four. She used to take a few more moments of sleep and wait for five to start her morning routine. Abandoning the sight of her bed though, she slipped her white bunny thongs and opened the door of her balcony. The faint smell of the familiar smoke and burning of metal always seem to left her uncomfortable, slightly nostalgic and emotional under the grasp those two years ago. Her high school years seems hard for her to let go unlike her grade and middle school years. She found herself looking back at the memories with apparent longing. She was yet wrong once again forcing her father too quickly she missed everyone's depart over seas. They did not tell her. She frowned. It was another thing to prob throughout her days alone. There's no one to distract her from thinking. How ironic.

Smiling, she leaned against the rail with her lower arm inside the sleeve of her coat, rubbing her two hands underneath the fabric to maintain from getting any cold. Her old experience did her totally a good lesson. A sick and low-blood pressure evil lord for getting her wet and without any pair of dry clothes.

Her clothes.

She stopped moving and for seconds became rather pale against the cool misty air. Pushing herself away, she scurried inside and slamming her fist against the light switch. The small contraption, in an instant, lit up and illuminated the room into brightness that it stung her eyes for a few moments but she was unaware of the pain as she fuddled with her laundry. Her worn clothes were thrown across the room mindlessly in a heap over the bed. Her clothes were over back and front as she jiggled her pants down and heard a metal click onto the floor. It's not her phone. The clothes were missing.

"Rich bastard," She cursed at the Rolex watch in a death grip within her hands, hoping that her fury will get through the owner of it. It seems she needs to be early in school today.

Clipping her shoulder length hair, she unbuttoned her nightdress, untying the ties at her waist she undo her underclothes and pulled the curtain close.

0o0

Kyouya Ootori went to the bank and Wistley Company and rented one of the large boxes, paying cash. He wore a sedate black suit, a white shirt, and a conservative tie. His shoes were polished. He carried a brown dispatch case he had purchased from the Partner Company. He wore a pair of glass with heavy frames. He had lifted them off the back seat of the car. The correction was slight, but it bothered him, and the bows hurt his ears. He pitched his voice lighter than usual and spoke more rapidly. And he did not smile.

The whole routine was far simpler than he had anticipated. The woman took his money, wrote down his name and address, had him sign a signature card, gave him a receipt for the box rental, two keys in a small red card envelope and explained what it would cost to have the box opened should he lose both keys. It was the rooming house where he had first stayed when he came to Tokyo, one he had been requested to leave.

He followed her into the vault and got the box. She showed him where to take it. It was just as Haruhi had explained to him. A hushed place, narrow aisle between the cubicles, soft dark green rug. Wide but short staircase, and a open balcony that overlooked the landscape of the buildings and sunset.

He sat in a small booth and opened his phone. He missed his watch badly. Get as soon as they were free and clear with the money. Get a damn good one, one of those things about the same size and thickness as a silver dollar. Solid gold with a solid gold wrist band. Initials on the back. Or he could just walk to her place and demand it from her, ask her and be done with it. How their fights turn to games of words, and how much they could figure out from each other. And still the simplicity that they managed to wave a flag or truce. Not the demanding women in his life. He was confused what to put in their state of relationship. Afraid he was actually unnerved at the matter somehow, he still receive the same dull treatment over and over. Her rejections and what he gave her was actually 'loans' in her mind. She simply have no idea.

She was a very simple, uncomplicated person. Her habit patterns were almost ritualistic. She was obsessive about house work, cleaning and washing and scrubbing herself into exhaustion. Gradually he became aware of another person behind the surface simplicity, an intricate, ritualistic, captive stranger- a person he knew so very much and very little at the same time. Her temper countering all the ironic grotesque people criticize her, been friends with her for long he couldn't quite remember. Her independence was the most intriguing part of her. The family she had acquired the factual bluntness and kindness and her dense approach for people much in care for her- it was his guilt not to tell her about her father's indeed acceptance for her freedom. It was him who insist to look upon her, to have time with her, and put comment about her contradicting nature that interested him to no end and how she blush then after.

Grinning at the thought, he plucked a plastic bag from the suitcase and pushed his glasses up. He took the key of his black Ford and closed the door behind him.

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**I like Kyouya and Haruhi very much and it would be really nice if you could leave your reviews. And your constructive criticisms would help me a lot too! I'll be waiting! There's more to come! Thanks a many lots! :D  
**


	2. Bottle Two: Three's The Charm part two

**A:N// There's no real plot in this story just randomness about the very cute heroine's life with a few schemes and tricky parts where there's our devilish young heir and his old dark, manipulative wickedness.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them.  
**

**Bottle Two:**

Part Two: Three's The Charm

"You lost it?" She hampered against bolting something at him or anywhere else at that matter. Her brown hair was in disarray. The blue ribbon he gave her was tied in rush, loose and letting a strand to fall from its bond. She wore her uniform for work, a black tunic, white shirt that was still half unbuttoned with lazy ties hanging from her sleeves which she kept on rolling up to her elbows, a tie and pants with the same dark color.

He took a deep breath. "Didn't I told you not to take that job." He said in a strained but knowing voice even though he hadn't indicated to elaborate. She just glared at him in return for avoiding her question.

"I need the money. It's not you who took it, and I'll give you the liberty not to dwell on my decisions right now. I'm not that helpless." She said, for once actually resorting to the pleading tactics he knew so well, knowing he won't budge with her reasoning as the tone he used pointed. "And you don't need to buy every damn store I work in or you'll buy the entire world."

He sighed, loosing the strength to withhold further in apparently another argument. He knew she can take care of herself very well. But time proved it was not herself she had taken care of but a battalion as well. A too damn good one. She's too sacrificing for her own self. And he would not take anymore danger than he counted on waiting she'll learn her lesson.

"I can get you-

"No, there you are again." She said as though reprimanding a child. Kyouya was not near enough to convince her, she was headstrong and too much for him to handle. He took his glass off and placed it at the clock beside her picture frame. Ouran. It was taken in front of the school house building, he had a similar one at his room. Her image was still the same, her wide and sincere smile, the keenness way she stood on her feet, and her laugh. She didn't changed. Her feelings might not also.

Kyouya looked up and briefly ran a hand over his forehead, sweeping the dampen weariness from his skin. And when he spoke it was no longer at ease but dark, "Is this about the debt?"

He didn't noticed her approaching, she was silent as a ghost and all too knowing. She sensed his discomfort and took his hand and placed hers against the wet but cool feeling of his skin against her warm palm. She slowly massaged it against her fingers, applying pressure and slowly pinching each side of his temple. He took her hand in his, looking at her sternly for a moment. "Is this about it." He said coldly, no longer asking.

"I don't know." His eyebrows knotted together in a frown as she pulled her hand from his grasp and began picking up the books and clothes scattered around the room. Stalling again, he pushed himself from the chair and pranced across the room toward her bended back. In an instant he reached her side and took the garment from the floor she intended to get.

"You're not unreasonable, Haruhi." He grabbed a shirt, pants, blouse as she went on ignoring him. "You should have merit from doing anything at all." He mocked. The untouched part of her temper was inextricably cracked by that. And it was for the better.

"You have a nerve, Mr. Ootori, telling me what to do or not. I can do what I want as long as it pleases what I get and whatnot is not upon your concern." She reached quickly towards her undergarments and threw his clock at him before disappearing behind the door of her bathroom.

"You're the boss." He smirked, eyeglasses glinting as he looked at his reflection against the silver wrist band. What privilege he had indeed. He still planning on getting her anything. He may start browsing for a 'commoner' franchise. "Got what I need." He muttered, hearing her annoyed hiss, a shriek, and words about 'soaps' and 'bathtubs' before he hung a strawberry patterned strap over the doorknob.

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**Just write what you thought! A click, just that. I want you all to be open towards me! I'm happy enough if you could leave a few words out for me. :)**


	3. Bottle Three: Heat and Cold part one

I don't own them, if I did you'll see Haruhi walking down the aisle with the devil.

**Bottle Three**

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Part one: Heat and cold

Fujioka Haruhi stood with her arms crossed tightly against her chest and bowed her head low as to hide the contempt from each passerby her eyes set upon. The jarring wind of the wintry snow was slowly changing the rectangular spine of buildings to dead leaden. The sound of car drones as it drove and stop. The soft footsteps of the people in the walking street and the mobile large television showing how the world move for another day. She had such observant eyes and distant perspective that was always outside the box. She felt peace as though her presence was so small; she could just stand there and let the wandering secrets of the people gossiping reveal to her in no mean feat. It was such an advantage in more ways than one.

Black hair.

She let out an irritated grunt and quickly turned her look away to the other side.

Eyeglasses.

Haruhi shifted in her position against the wall of the still closed supermarket.

Their likeness and difference were wrestling the scale of who will win in the end.

She was unlike any other girl.

And he was unlike any young man.

She was too preserved in her own life and achievements.

He had shown her and she understood his only commitment don't have exceptions.

She was uninterested.

He was an outsider who overlooked the matter as though it was a laptop that could give him bountiful of data. But just that.

They were both unprepared and too unwilling lots. Their fairness was questionable enough. She was too reckless to herself when others was the matter at hand. He didn't like to care, or showing it was.

She can't read him, but sometimes she can. And the satisfying feeling of it was exhilarating down to her bones. When he turns the game around, acting the egoist, she kept reminding herself his name 'Kyouya Ootori' and the concrete luxury of the power it represent, but not the shielded part behind the mask. Knowing this, he attempted to escape from her talented eyes for too long. It had been only three weeks since she took his foolish excuse and fled to her dumbfounded father who was not-so-dying (but almost) to see her. But she felt much older and sick with worry when she entered his house to find him unconscious in the bathroom.

The feeling of panic surged through her body as though a rope was ripping her neck; she couldn't breathe and for once: couldn't think.

The supermarket will open in just a few more minutes- so much for dashing here too early. Haruhi rolled her sleeve to look at her watch; it said six-fifty eight and she have two minutes of tortured thoughts running in her mind.

Wet skin excessively warm from the bath...

Hot breath against her neck...

Haruhi's face turned red as his bare body jumped in her mind. It was a shameful thing, she thought. The memory was a living torment for her. The facts that were too bashful and embarrassing to admit: she remembered it well and responded, actually, it was the alien voice saying she liked it. But truthfully she trust the ounce of sensibility in her, its cold clutch at her emotions. It was her stability to discharge the call of those dark eyes and his unfathomable understanding of her wordless fear of....him. Calling Hotta, or his hospital would be much effective. Her panic was too immense at the time to even think what was best to do at the moment.

The double-paneled doors slid and the transparent partition opened as she entered, skirting quickly without much of a frisk to the familiar rounds and corners in anima. She slowed her steps and eventually came into a stop in front of a stall. Smiling at the familiar watermelon and rice corn flakes, she wondered how such a wealthy man's appetite has some taste for something of mere five hundred yen price value.

It was something that was not uncommon in every people, although perhaps the abbreviation must be different to sit with him properly. He might express in a propagated sums of maddening theories how such 'in common' was there with him and 'that idiotic' Tamaki.

Perhaps it was something they had in common as well.

She doesn't know for real why he thrive to get past the better judgment of his father. The life of such a man in a cloak of heavy gold and silver. How frustrated he can be. On his side, he doesn't really know how a commoner find richness in dainty life of simplicity, being that he had treatment of the fullest, tasted the life of abundance, he swore he can't be contented even if the world turn up side down. Although, he might be searching...

His life would have been rolling on the same road, when he found it-

It changed, reverted to a different road he deliberated for five years now.

"Haruhi."

Hope you all like it! There's plenty of Kyoharu next, much more than this one. It's rather short, I know. But I'll try to add a little sugar and spice for the next chapter.


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